


Kitchen Alchemy

by writing_as_tracey



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 7+1, Betty-centric, Canon Timeline, F/M, Food as Metaphor, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Power of Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_as_tracey/pseuds/writing_as_tracey
Summary: Betty cooks to say ‘sorry’; to show her friends she is thinking of them; to show someone up. But mainly, Betty just enjoys cooking for the people she loves. 7+1 shorts of Betty cooking for people over the course of the season.1- Veronica2 - Kevin3 - Reggie4 - Archie5 - FP6 - Cheryl7 - Polly+Bonus - Jughead





	1. Veronica

**Author's Note:**

> I’m really not sure where this idea of Riverdale!Betty is a homebody, or at least, the sense that she loves to cook and is amazing at it, but in the wise words of Tim Gunn, “make it work!!” Also, I had a ridiculous amount of fun looking up cooking quotes and going through my recipe books and my DIY recipe book.
> 
> All chapters are done, but I'll be posting one per day, as I work on my other WIPs (Darkest of Times & Shine a Light)

Kitchen Alchemy

*

 *

[1 - Veronica]

_Some days, you eat salads and go to the gym. Some days, you eat cupcakes and refuse to put on pants. It’s called “balance.”_

 

When Veronica messed up, she ordered her fancy Parisian cupcakes, a bouquet of flowers, and booked a girl’s mani/pedi spa date. Betty turned her nose up at it, messed up on her own (rightfully chastised, too), and Veronica took her back with as much grace and poise as the Queen.

It shamed Betty. That evening when she arrived at home, she grabbed her frilly, stained, but trusty apron, and began pulling out the ingredients she needed to make her apology snack.

Cream, butter, eggs. Flour, baking powder, salt. Vanilla, sprinkles, and icing.

The ingredients came together as easily as the memory of standing by her Grandmother Cooper’s hip, watching the woman whisk the ingredients and tell Betty, an impressionable little six year old with a flour smudge across her cheek, “Remember, Lizzie dear, the final ingredient is what?”

“Love!” chirped the young blonde in pigtails, green eyes wide and her mouth a strawberry red sash across her chipmunk cheeks.

Her grandmother tapped her on the nose, dusting more flour on it. “Yes. The final ingredient for anything you bake is love.”

Veronica had been nothing but nice to Betty from the moment she arrived in Riverdale. Yes, the whole ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ incident was... unfortunately timed. But Betty had confessed to Archie her feelings, and he hasn’t reciprocated; it was time to move on. And if he moved on with Veronica, that was their choice. She had no say in it.

What she did have a say in, was how she would apologise to Veronica for brushing her off and treating her poorly. Especially after _Veronica_ apologized for encroaching on Archie – although Betty had no claim.

The oven was warmed to 375F, and with a hot pink silicone oven mitt, Betty slid in the cupcake tray. As the timer on the oven clock ticked down to zero, Betty cleaned the Cooper kitchen. Once it was back to its pristine state (no reason to have her mother go after her for anything other than perfect), Betty reached for her phone and sent Veronica a text message.

_R u free 2nite?_

The reply was quick, as though she was waiting for Betty to speak to her: _Of course. What’s up?_

Betty bit her lip, checking that only a few minutes remained, and then replied. _Can I come over 4 a bit?_

_What time is good?_

_In 30min k?_

Veronica agreed, and then her oven timer went off. Betty put the oven mitts on again, and pulled her cupcake tray out. Letting them cool on the counter top, she pulled out a previously prepared butter cream icing and can to pipe the cooled creamy vanilla topping on the now cooled cupcakes, and then liberally sprinkled them with the rainbow candy. By the time she had finished with the icing, the decorations, and placing them in a secured container, she was nearly late for Veronica’s.

She arrived on time – perfectly so – and Smithers buzzed her in and up. Veronica answered the door, still in her school clothes from earlier that day.

“Come in!” the raven-haired girl greeted, opening the door wider and Betty stepped past.

“Thanks,” the blonde demurred, stepping in shyly for her first time at the Lodge residence, glancing this way and that as she took in the expensive decor.

“Everyone okay, B?” asked Veronica, leading her into the living room, and plopping down on one of the many couches.

Betty gingerly sat next to Veronica, and took a deep breath. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“B, no, we already went over this—”

Betty shook her head. “No, it’s not right, Ronnie. We thought you messed up but you didn’t owe me anything when you kissed Archie. And then I threw your apology back in your face. _That_ I am sorry for. I messed up and treated you poorly to cover my own feelings of being rejected. You were an easy target.”

“Telling someone you love them, and then learning they don’t feel the same way, isn’t something you can just get over,” replied Veronica quietly, holding her friends’ gaze steadily. Veronica reached forward and took Betty’s hands in hers. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I feel like I do,” replied Betty, glancing at her friend from under her lashes.

“We both made mistakes, B,” said Veronica with a tiny smile. “But if you need me to say, ‘apology accepted,’ consider it done.”

Betty breathed out a large sigh, reaching to her side on the couch and handing over the container she brought. “Good. Because, well, I made you these, too. As an apology.”

Veronica, looking intrigued, took the container and opened them, with a happy, surprised gasp. “B! You didn’t! Cupcakes!”

Betty grinned. “Well, as your mom says, ‘there’s no wrong the right cupcake can’t fix’.”

Veronica picked one up and peeled the sparkly cupcake liner away from the vanilla cake. She bit into it and moaned her appreciation. “B, oh my God, this is decadent. Where did you find these?”

Betty blushed and leaned back against the couch in satisfaction. “My kitchen. I made them.”

She looked shyly down and mumbled, “My grandmother always told me that the final ingredient in anything I make is to be love – because it’s important. And V – well... you’re my friend. I don’t know you all that well, but, I want to. I want to be your friend.”

Veronica reached out with her free hand, the other still holding the half-eaten cupcake, and grabbed Betty’s wrist. “B –haven’t you figured it out yet? You’re the Thelma to my Louise; the Lucy to my Ethel. You’re stuck with me.”

She looked down at the cupcake, and the full container of 14 more with a greedy eye. “And trust me, if cupcakes are going to be our apology go-to; I am _definitely_ not letting you go.”

*

TBC in

[2: Kevin]


	2. Kevin

*

[2 - Kevin]

_Chocolate is the answer. Who cares what the question is._

 

If finding the dead body of a classmate that you knew wasn’t horrifying enough, Kevin had the added difficulty of trying to explain to his father why he and Moose were down by Sweetwater River that night to begin with.

And Sheriff Keller – while aware of his son’s sexual preferences – wasn’t quite ready to connect one plus one to get two.

Kevin’s rather nonchalant texts and conversations following that weekend’s discovery tugged at Betty all through the week, especially as Kevin continued to laugh and flirt and gossip with her and Veronica at lunch and in class (at least, once they made up) – but something rang hollow in his voice.

So, one evening, Betty stopped by the Whole Food grocery on her way home from _the Register_ – after that horrible article about Cheryl came out – and grabbed cocoa butter, coconut oil, cocoa powder, agave syrup and a few bags of dried cranberries and almonds.

Her next steps were time consuming – the grating and melting – but she was dedicated and committed, and slowly, everything she mixed in the medium bowl that sat in a larger bowl of warm water, began to take shape and form. Once all her ingredients were together, she poured the chocolate-y mix into a small brownie pan, lined with parchment paper, and slid the whole thing into the freezer.

She left it in there as she cleaned the kitchen, and left it in there as she finished her homework for the night and went to bed. The next morning before school, she pulled out the frozen, hard, homemade chocolate bark she had made and with a warm knife, broke the chocolate into smaller pieces. Once they were broken up, she put them in a smaller Tupperware container and tucked it into her backpack.

Betty didn’t see Kevin until school was over that day, and instead of turning right to head home, she turned left with him.

“Betty?” he asked, confused. He turned on his heel to face her.

Betty gave her friend a wide smile. “Kev. Do you mind if I walk with you?”

“You live in the other direction,” he pointed out, tugging nervously on his backpack straps.

“So?” Betty shrugged. “I want to spend some time with you.”

Kevin frowned, but slowly nodded, and she fell into step beside him as they walked away from Riverdale High and towards the other part of town where Kevin and his father lived – halfway between north Riverdale and the Southside.

They were silent for a bit. Then—

“Is everything okay, Betty?” Kevin asked, turning his head to face her, and deftly avoiding tripping over a crack in the sidewalk.

Betty gave a tiny shrug. “Sure. As well as everything can be with Polly missing.”

Kevin frowned. “I’m sorry about that. Have you found anything out?”

“Not yet,” she replied. “But I’m hopeful.” She paused, and then asked, “How are you doing?”

Kevin stumbled this time. “Me? Oh – I’m fine. Great. Wonderful. _Spectacular_.”

Betty raised her eyebrows at him and waited.

Kevin sighed and his shoulder slumped. “Okay, no, I’m not fine. In fact, I’m fucking terrible. I haven’t been sleeping, and it’s hard to eat.”

“That’s why you’re avoiding sitting with us at lunch,” said Betty, eyes wide with understanding.

Kevin miserably nodded.

“I keep seeing Jason’s face in my dreams. I –I just...” he sighed and ran a hand through his very neatly gelled hair, messing it up. His face was pale, washed out and worn.

“What has your dad said about this?” asked Betty quietly.

Kevin scoffed. “My dad? He barely acknowledges the fact that I’m interested in men. In case you haven’t noticed, he tends to bury his head in the sand or stick to a single point with intense focus that it blocks everything else. And ‘Kevin is okay’ and ‘Kevin is not traumatized from finding a dead body’ is definitely something he’s focused on.”

Betty impulsively leaned forward, stopping Kevin from walking, and wrapped him in a tight hug. “I’m sorry it’s like this,” she whispered against his fall coat. She felt his arms come up and wrap around her, squeezing.

“Me, too,” he whispered into her hair.

Betty sniffed, and pulled back. “I need you to start eating again.”

“It’s hard,” admitted Kevin.

“Well, maybe instead of eating solid food, we start small,” suggested Betty, slipping her backpack off and unzipping it in a fluid motion. She reached in and pulled out the container of chocolate bark she made for him. “It’s not much, but... it’s something. You can let it melt in your mouth.”

“What is it?” asked Kevin, taking it and then opening the Tupperware. His eyes lit up. “Is this a special Betty Cooper-made dessert for me?”

Betty blushed. “Less of a dessert and more of a meal for you right now, Kev.”

“Well, bless my heart, Julia Childs,” teased the taller teen. “I do feel so loved.”

A tiny flush and sparkle in his eyes was enough to make Betty beam. “You should be, Kev. You should be.”

*

TBC in

[3 - Reggie] 


	3. Reggie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked up the next issue in the Riverdale tie in comics Weds and aghuishgu the Bughead stuff is so cute. And Reggie was hilariously dickish in it, but strangely trying to be helpful too. I need more Reggie in s2.

*

[3 – Reggie]

“I cook with wine. Sometimes I even add it to the food.” – W.C. Fields

 

The Taste of Riverdale was an annual September event for the town that made Alice Cooper become snarkier and more short-tempered than her usual self for a period of exactly three weeks. While she would cover Taste of Riverdale for _the Register_ , tradition dictated that all Riverdale women would also provide a signature dish.

It was sexist.

It was classist.

It was incredibly conservative in all the wrong ways.

And for the past four years, Alice enlisted Betty to create the dish she would submit as hers.

Honestly, it didn’t fool anyone who ever had Alice Cooper's  _or_ Betty Cooper’s food, as there was a significant difference in quality, but everyone was polite enough about the entry to ignore the truth. Riverdale was good at ignoring things.

This year, however, Betty was already stressed with the growing mystery around Polly, the lingering tension from Archie and Jughead’s feud that resulted in her and Jughead getting closer, as well as the murder of Jason Blossom that hung over all the kids at Riverdale High.

Taste of Riverdale had completely slipped her mind until two days before the event, when her mother airily said as she walked out the front door one morning, “And don’t forget the tasting dish for Taste of Riverdale on Saturday, Elizabeth. I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.”

Betty’s only response was a long, drawn out, _fuuuuuuuuuucccccck_ in her mind.

That afternoon, instead of meeting Jughead at the Blue and Gold office, she snuck into the Home Economics classroom, a school apron tied tightly on as she stood in front of one of the school ovens, blankly staring at it.

 _What do I make?_ She wondered, turning to the industrial sized refrigerator in the room and opening the doors. She stood staring at the multitude of ingredients on the various shelves: vegetables, fruits, meats, and cartons of milk and cream and some eggs and bread. And then – inspiration.

Halfway through her prep, while she had four sliced garlic cloves simmering in butter in a cast-iron skillet, she had a visitor.

Swaggering in as if he owned the place, Reggie plastered a wide grin on his face. “Why, hello, Betty Cooper. Or is it _Crocker_?”

“Reggie,” she replied, combining several spices she had found in a cabinet in a large bowl for a dry rub. Her hands were coated red and every time she rubbed her fingers together, the spices released a fragrant and pleasant scent.

“Whatchya doing?” the tall football player asked, leaning against the counter opposite where she was working. He folded his arms and her eyes were drawn to the blue and gold Letterman jacket – similar to Archie’s and iconic Riverdale. After Chuck, though, she wasn’t quite sure what the varsity jacket was meant to stand for, and those who wore it.

Betty answered, a bit hesitantly because she hadn’t spoken to Reggie in some time, and the last she saw of him had been the fight he and Archie got into earlier, “I’m making a dry rub for pork tenderloin, cooked in garlic butter.”

“What for?” he asked, pushing off the counter to stand next to the skillet and lean over it.

“Taste of Riverdale,” she sighed in response.

Reggie turned back with a frown. “Taste of Riverdale is for MILfs with nothing better to do during their day to present dishes that show they can actually contribute to Riverdale society.”

“Why, Reggie, that was practically verbose for you,” she teased, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips.

He flushed. “Yeah, well...”

Betty smiled and picked up the prepped pork tenderloin she had worked on before Reggie arrived, and dropped it into the large bowl, rolling it this way and that, until it was entirely covered.

“As for why I’m doing this,” she made a tiny face, pausing in rolling. “My mother contributes but because she’s busy with the paper, I usually do her dish.”

“Betty,” said Reggie, a strange tone in his voice. “Considering how long I’ve known you, and the fact that I pass by _the Register_ at night on my way home after practice, I know for a fact that your parents have been working overtime for _years_.”

“Yeah, so?” Her back was rigid and she kept her eyes on the meat, now covered. She took it out and put it back on the wooden chopping block she was using. She turned on her heel and walked over to the kitchen sinks at the far side of the Home Ec room, Reggie following her.

“Are you telling me, all those times I’ve enjoyed Mama Cooper’s food, it’s really been yours?”

Betty, rubbing at her hands under warm soapy water, hunched her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She reached for paper towel, dried her hands, and prepared herself mentally before turning around. She was ready for the comments – _perfect Betty, can’t do anything wrong, look at her take on another project_.

“That lasagna you made last year didn’t have enough meat,” said Reggie instead.

Betty sputtered. “What?”

He frowned contemplatively, and looked at the ceiling. “Yeah. And the apple crumble the year before? Too much cinnamon.”

“I beg your pardon,” replied Betty, shocked. “Are you... are you _criticising_ my food?” She blinked. “I don’t think _anyone’s_ ever criticized my food.”

He gave her a lazy grin. “Well, maybe not to your face.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” snapped Betty, pushing the sleeves of her baby blue sweater up to her elbows, marching back to the hot skillet.

She used metal tongs to pick up the tenderloin and dropped it in the skillet. It immediately sizzled and spit, and a gentle waft of smoke coiled up into the extractor fan. The enticing scent of the dry rub she put on the tenderloin, plus the garlic butter, began to permeate the kitchen.

She tossed her head, looking over her shoulder at Reggie, who was smirking. “Prepare to be amazed, Mantle. You’ve just volunteered yourself as my taste tester.”

“You better not poison me, Alex Guarnaschelli,” warned Reggie, as he reached for a discarded stool, bringing it under him and settling down on it.

Betty paused, wondering when Reggie had the time to know the name - especially a long one like Alex Guarnaschelli's - of an HGTV reality chef. And then she wondered _why_ he would know the name of an HGTV chef, but quickly shook that thought away. 

He continued, “Andrews and I are competing for varsity captain now, and we’ve got that home match coming up. I can’t afford to miss it, or else Andrews gets it.”

Betty scoffed, focused on searing the tenderloin for five minutes on each side, as well as thinking what veg were in the fridge to use as a side dish. She grumbled under her breath, "Really.  _Poison you_ , please, Reggie Mantle. Freakin' _Reginald_. Mantle the Magnificent - oh, _sure -_ , he's Mantle the Massive Pain in My Ass, that's what..."

Forty minutes later, Reggie took a bite out of the juiciest, well-seasoned pork tenderloin he ever ate, and finished off the baby potatoes and asparagus on the side as well.  

 *

TBC in

{4 - Archie]


	4. Archie

[4 – Archie]

_One day, I’m gonna make the onions cry._

 

She didn’t want to say “I told you so.”

She also didn’t want to say “I’m sorry,” because she wasn’t.

As far as she was concerned, Grundy – or Jennifer Gibson, or whoever she really was – had taken advantage of Archie in all the worst possible ways, but even worse, made him believe she was in love with him and he was in love with her.

Her dear childhood friend was the victim of a predator, and she didn’t know what to do to help him. To fix it.

Betty, the fixer.

The reliable girl-next-door, the one everyone turned to for help – the one _Archie_ turned to for help. Ever since they were five years old, and he skinned his knee during tag one day, from tutoring him so they’d remain in the same grade – Betty was there for him.

Until she couldn’t be anymore, and it broke her heart.

Her go-to default was to bake Archie something. She thought – _a nice, decadent chocolate cake._

But ‘decadent’ might not be what Archie needed right then.

So, she thought – _what about a warm, comforting apple pie?_

But no, apple pies were the food of back-to-school, of summer BBQs and Independence Day cobblers, and there was too much associated with those dates for her to feel comfortable with.

Every suggestion she came up with was put aside because it didn’t fit.

Her breathing began to quicken, and she felt the familiar bubble of anxiety begin in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers began to curl, and she took a deep breath, calmly putting her palms flat, face down on the kitchen island.

That evening wore on, and all Betty could see was the lights in the Andrews’ household as Fred began to get ready for bed. He turned off the living room first, then the kitchen. After that, it was the hallway and the upstairs landing light turned on instead. Then, she saw his silhouette briefly outlined – mostly his head – in Archie’s bedroom. The angle from the Cooper kitchen wasn’t the best for spying on her neighbour.

Archie’s bedroom light remained on for some time; Betty had lost track. Somehow, between the moment she left Riverdale High with her mother, after confronting Grundy about her and Archie, to now, Betty had pulled out ingredients from the fridge and had begun to chop them.

She looked down at the sharp kitchen knife in one hand, and the neatly sliced Spanish onions on the cutting board, and wondered, _when did I do this?_

Betty pushed the sliced onion off the cutting board into a bowl to cover, washed the knife, and left it in the drying rack. She then reached up to wipe at her cheek and frowned when it came away wet.

She never did finish preparing a meal that night.

*

TBC in

[5 - FP]


	5. FP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this early by a few hours because 1) I'm going to be busy tomorrow and 2) I need positive vibes from my readers as reinforcement for TRACEY DO NOT GET INVOLVED IN DISCUSSION ON REDDIT. AVOID THE RIVERDALE REDDIT NOW. YOU KNOW BETTER. :-/ oh man, was that ever a mistake.

[5 – FP]

”Life is a combination of magic and pasta.” – Federico Fellini

 

Jughead was ridiculously happy and proud that his father was working with Fred Andrews again – and even prouder still that it was a stable, legit job. That happiness spilled into their relationship, and Betty floated along, giddy, for a solid week.

With Jughead’s seventeenth birthday quickly approaching, she began to make plans. A nice, small, and intimate dinner party at her house; she could cook a meal for their friends – no more than her, Jughead, Archie, Veronica, Kevin, and maybe Ethel? – six or seven was manageable. But the constant sparkle in Jughead’s eyes had her reach out for one more.

So, while Jughead was with Archie – a strange occurrence, but she had Archie’s promise that he’d keep her boyfriend ( _god, her_ boyfriend _, Jughead Jones. It was bizarre and amazing_ ) occupied that evening – Betty strode across town, clutching her Tupperware tightly.

She passed the high school, and the town center, as well as the police station and the Whole Foods grocer, and the she was walking past a strip mall she never visited and down a few more streets before she reached her destination.

It was a shame that Riverdale – the town with pep! – could be so divided by a measly street. Liberty Avenue divided the north side of the town from the south, but also divided the town more than just geographically. And it hurt, to see the community so easily ignore others.

She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and kept a steady pace as she made her way through the trailer park. She could see curtains in small trailer windows twitching as someone inside peered through at her as she walked by. She heard a few dogs bark, and even someone shouting somewhere, but mostly there was silence broken by the occasional blare of a loud television set.

She finally approached the trailer she was looking for, and stopped just at the foot of the wooden stairs that led to the door.

 _You can do this, Cooper,_ she thought, then bounded up them with the same pep the town was known for. She knocked smartly on the metal door.

“Yeah, yeah, one sec,” a voice from inside called, and then the door was pulled open with a sharp yank. The man on the other side – tall, wiry thin but strong; in a white t-shirt and low-slung jeans – blinked in surprise.

“Betty? What are you doing here?” He peered past her, looking for someone else. “Where’s Jughead? Is he okay?”

Betty nodded, and smiled kindly. “He’s fine, Mr. Jones. In fact, Archie’s keeping him busy tonight so I could come by to see you.”

“Me?” FP’s mouth dropped open. “And it’s FP, Betty, please.”

“Yes,” nodded Betty. She shuffled awkwardly for a moment, and FP caught the move.

He stepped back from the door and swept an arm to the side. “Ah, come in.”

“Thank you,” she replied, remembering her manners. She stepped in, looked left and right, and then asked, “Should I take off my boots?”

“What? God, no,” FP waved a hand. “Leave ‘em on.”

He indicated that she should sit, which she did so but perched at the edge of the couch, looking around the trailer with interest, trying to picture her childhood friend in the space. FP watched her with a thinly veiled look of wary curiosity, leaning against the wooden beam that separated the kitchen and living area with a half-wall.

“So, what can I help you with, Betty?” asked FP finally, arms and ankles crossed.

Betty leaned forward some more, nearly off the couch. “It’s Jughead’s birthday in a week, and I wanted to do something special for him.”

FP snorted. “Jughead _hates_ birthdays. Always had. Best thing you can do is forget it.”

Betty frowned. “He shouldn’t have to forget his own birthday, Mr. Jones. Uh, FP.”

She looked down and off to the side where her Tupperware rested on the couch seat. She wrung her fingers together, lacing and unlacing them, before finally looking up and meeting FP’s face.

“I want to do something nice,” she began quietly. “I like to cook. It’s... it’s how I show I care. I was planning a dinner with a few of our friends at my house next Friday, and then I realized – it wouldn’t be an evening celebrating Jughead without you there.

“Please say you’ll come?” she finished earnestly.

FP rubbed a hand across his mouth, eyes wary. “I don’t know, Betty. I’m pretty sure he won’t want me there when he has you and his friends.”

“You should be there,” she insisted quietly, but firmly. “I know you haven’t been able to see it, but... he’s been so proud of you. It wouldn’t just be a celebration for Jughead, but you, too. Even if maybe we’re the only three to know it.”

FP blinked, once, then twice, and then stood straight, off the beam. He was looking at her with an unreadable expression, and Betty curled her fingers into her palm to avoid fidgeting under her boyfriend’s father’s gaze. Instead, she met his eyes and silently entreated him to believe her; to know that she cared about Jughead very much and wouldn’t do anything to hurt him; that she wanted to take care of him and be by his side, and by extension, help FP too...

Finally, FP’s expression changed into a warm, crooked smile. Betty felt her breath catch and thought _there – right there. I see Juggie in him_.

“Tell me what time I need to be there, and I will,” he said.

Betty stood, a wide smile gracing her lips and slight blush high on her cheeks. “Thank you so much, FP! I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“Eh, I’m not sure about that, Betty,” laughed FP, “But he’s certainly lucky to have you in his corner.”

He moved forward and walked her to the door, opening it gallantly, and holding it so as she stepped out onto the small wooden landing of their deck.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she said, turning and walking down the steps.

“Hey, Betty, wait!” called FP as she reached the bottom. She turned to look back up at him, standing in the trailer’s open door. He was holding the Tupperware container she left on the couch. “You forgot this!”

Betty shook her head. “No, I didn’t. It’s chicken parmesan with fettuccini alfredo; at least two portions. I don’t need the container back, either.”

She turned and walked away, but she could hear FP’s chuckle and his muttered words carried on the wind. She smiled so wide, she was sure her cheeks would split.

“ _Damn lucky_.”

*

TBC in

[6 - Cheryl]


	6. Cheryl

*

[6 - Cheryl]

_Cupcakes are muffins that believed in miracles._

 

The reveal of Cheryl’s father murdering Jason numbed Betty.

Sure, she had problems with her own parents, but she never – in a million years – believed that they would ever _kill_ her or Polly. Just how important to Clifford Blossom was his drug smuggling business, that even the _threat_ of Jason exposing him was too much? The man threatened Jughead to keep FP in line; why didn’t he just threaten Polly to keep _Jason_ in line?

Betty supposed she would never know the answer, now that Clifford Blossom had hung himself, taking his reasons to the grave. Unfortunately, it also meant he couldn’t help exonerate FP for his part of covering up Jason’s murder.

Personally, Betty thought holding FP was beyond silly; his greatest crime related to the murder was obstruction of justice and moving a corpse; all under duress, of course – because you’re not going to say “no” to a man who just point-blank executed his son or a fellow Southside gang member who happily tortured the kid for a week.

With that in mind, Betty finished piping icing on her special vanilla cupcakes, the same recipe Veronica once called ‘decadent’. Her plan was to visit the police station and see if Officer Harrow was on duty; if he was, she could sweet talk him into letting her see FP and give him some of the cupcakes because goodness knows _what_ that man was eating.

She was full of pep and conviction, her article about the Southside Serpent witch-hunt Mayor McCoy was conducting with Kevin’s father up on the Blue and Gold website and her personal blog. Riding the high of such a well-written piece, she was hoping to speak to FP and get some ideas of where to take the article next to help him.

She was half-way to the police station when she spotted a familiar, tall and skinny redheaded girl in a luxurious feathered winter coat, walking towards her but with her head down.

When they were within speaking distance, Betty stopped and called, “Cheryl?”

The redhead girl popped her head up in surprise, and Betty’s heart clenched to see the vacant, lost-look on her face, as well as the tear tracks that had frozen in the early November freeze Riverdale was experiencing.

“Oh. Betty.” Even her voice was devoid of her usual teasing lilt.

“Cheryl, are you okay?” asked Betty, taking a step forward. “You haven’t been at school. Do you need copies of any assignments...?”

Cheryl was looking at Betty oddly, eyeing her like she was some strange specimen she had never seen before. Finally, she huffed, shaking her head back and forth.

“God, look at you,” she said, but it was without any cruelty. “You really are that perfect, aren’t you?”

Betty took a step back. “I’m sorry?”

Cheryl waved a hand at her. “You’ve got everything, haven’t you, Betty? You’re a cheerleader on the River Vixens despite everything I’ve done to stop it; you’re surrounded by your friends who support you and you’re even dating Jughead.” She made a face.

“I – uh,” stammered Betty, blinking.

Cheryl continued. “Your parents are back together, and dearest Pollikins is living in Casa Cooper, where I’m sure my niece and nephew will be taken care of. Everything is coming up roses for you, isn’t it?”

“It’s really not, Cheryl,” murmured Betty, frowning.

The other girl shrugged, and began walking again, ready to pass by Betty. “If you say so.”

“Cheryl, wait—” Betty turned on her heel and grabbed at Cheryl’s arm, fisting the fabric of her coat under her hand to keep her in place.

 “Honestly, Betty. What? What more could you possibly want to say to me? Me? The girl who made your life hell this year,” Cheryl sighed. She sounded tired, and Betty could see the makeup she had on, covering up dark marks under her eyes.

Cheryl turned her eyes on Betty, and continued, heatedly, “Do you want an apology? Fine. Here it is: I am _so_ sorry for initiation week. I am sorry for making you go on the roof when you're scared of heights, and for making you wear that ridiculous little River Vixens bikini. I'm sorry for accusing Polly of such terrible things, and making your life miserable.”

“I don’t need an apology, Cheryl,” said Betty quietly, looking at the pavement. She looked back up and said, “I just want you to know, if you need anything, I’m here.”

The other girl stared at her for a moment, and then gave a watery laugh. She kept chuckling for a bit before finally shaking her head. “God, Betty. Don’t ever change.”

Cheryl turned, ready to continue walking wherever she was heading.

Betty, shaken, followed her a few steps, and thrust the brown paper bag she was carrying the cupcakes in at the other girl.

“What’s this?” asked Cheryl, looking at the bag but not taking it.

Betty smiled. “A little something to get you through the day.”

The other girl scoffed, but looked in the bag. She then sniffed and spoke, with some of her usual heat, “Cupcakes are calories, Bettikins.”

“Yeah, I guess they are,” said Betty, but she pushed the bag into Cheryl’s hands, and the other girl was forced to grab the handles. Betty quickly took a few steps back and then some more. She cheerfully called, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Cheryl!”

Betty left the girl standing on the sidewalk with a bag of cupcakes that she had originally baked for FP. It didn’t change her plans – she was still going to visit him at the station – but now she could ask him what she could bring instead of surprising him.

Many days later, after Cheryl’s attempted suicide, after Mr. Andrew’s was shot and recovering in intensive care at Riverdale Memorial Hospital, after Hiram Lodge came to Riverdale and a strange, blond government agent began poking his head around FP’s case – only then did Cheryl stop next to Betty at her lunch table one afternoon.

She didn’t say anything, just stared at the girl, and then walked away.

Betty considered it a victory.

*

TBC in

[7 - Polly]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy long May weekend, fellow Canucks!


	7. Polly

*

[7 – Polly]

“A party without cake is just a meeting.” – Julia Child

 

The twins were born two weeks early, at the beginning of December when classes were still on. Principal Weatherbee pulled Betty from AP English, explaining that he received a call from her mother saying that she, Hal, and Polly were on their way to Riverdale Memorial and that Betty should join them.

While waiting the two minutes for her Uber, she sent messages to Veronica, Kevin, Archie, and Jughead, explaining where she would be for the next few hours. Hesitating, she then sent one last message to Cheryl; the babies were part Jason, too.

She and Cheryl arrived nearly at the same time; Betty exited an Uber and Cheryl through a town car that had survived her fiery purge of Thorn Hill. They stared at each other for a moment, on either ends of the hospital entrance, before Cheryl tossed her long red hair and strode inside, Betty following in her wake.

“My dear sister is in labour,” said Cheryl in her overly sweet tone. “Where can I find Polly Cooper?”

The receptionist looked Cheryl up and down. It was a small town, after all. “Family only, Ms. Blossom; Ms. Cooper, you’ll find your parents waiting on the fifth floor, ward B.”

Cheryl let out a pout of displeasure that was quickly turning into a Blossom tantrum.

Betty nodded her thanks to the receptionist, but bit her lip and turned to Cheryl. “Come on,” she gestured.

Cheryl frowned.

Betty sighed. “You’re _family_ Cheryl.” She made a funny face. “It a lot more ways than I feel comfortable. But Polly’s kids are your niece and nephew too. So let’s go.”

Cheryl’s blood red lips stretched into a small and tight, but sincere smile, and blue eyes lit up in gratitude. The two girls dashed down the hall and up the stairs – eschewing the elevator as too slow – and burst into ward B breathlessly.

“Where have you been?” asked Alice, her tone disapproving. “I sent for you over an hour ago.” She cut her eyes at Cheryl. “And what is _she_ doing here?”

Betty rolled her eyes. She’d yelled at her mother enough over the past few weeks – since FP’s arrest, really – that she was beginning to brush off the tone and guilt that came from disobeying her parents.

“Cheryl is going to be family shortly,” announced Betty, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the other girl. “She has ever right to be here.”

“She’s a _Blossom_ ,” hissed Alice, glaring at the girl beside her daughter.

“And apparently so are we,” retorted Betty. “And so are Polly’s babies.”

Hal stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Alice’s shoulder, and drew her away and back at the uncomfortable plastic seats in the waiting area outside of the birthing room.

“Let it be, Alice,” he was whispering. “This is about Polly right now – not old grudges.”

“Thanks,” whispered Cheryl, and the two sat a few seats away from her parents. Cheryl began tapping her heels nervously on the hospital floor.

Betty smiled back. “No problem.”

A few moments later, a nurse exited the birthing room, looked around the waiting area, and asked loudly, “Is there a Betty Cooper here?”

“ME!” Betty jumped out of the seat. “That’s me.”

The nurse nodded. “Right, get scrubbed up. Your sister wants you in with her.”

Blindsided, Betty could only nod, giving a vaguely sympathetic look to Cheryl for having to remain outside with her parents, especially her mother who looked shocked and heartbroken for not being chosen as Polly’s companion.

Betty steeled her nerves and entered her sister’s birthing room; Polly’s blond hair was plastered to her forehead and she was sweaty and tired, but reached for her sister’s hand in gratitude and love as Betty hovered by her side.

“Couldn’t do this without you, Betty,” whispered Polly, once, between contractions.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” whispered Betty in reply, squeezing her sister’s hand and failing to hide her wince as Polly squeezed back.

Several hours later, Jason Jr. and Eliza, were born. They already had a soft fuzzy covering of strawberry blonde on their heads, and were remarkably quiet babies, more interested in sleeping than greeting the anxious visitors outside.

“I’ll go tell them,” whispered Betty, staring in awe at her nephew and niece cuddled tight on her sister’s chest.

Polly gave a grateful smile, and Betty slipped out, disposing of her scrubs, gloves, and mask. Outside, the waiting room was nearly full; from not only Hal and Alice, and Cheryl, but also Fred, Archie, and Veronica, as well as Hermione Lodge were there. Kevin stood with Jughead, a little off to the side from the cluster of families. All turned to Betty the moment they spotted her.

Alice was on her feet and in front of Betty in a second, Cheryl not far behind.

“Well?!” snapped Cheryl, hands reaching forward as if to shake Betty.

Betty smiled and pitched her voice to everyone waiting, “Jason Jr and Eliza are doing well. Ten fingers and ten toes, and mom’s currently resting.”

Congratulations and cheers from the group greeted the announcement and Betty was sure Polly could hear them from her room. Alice and Hal pushed past Betty to go see their daughter, and Cheryl quickly turned on her heel to the nursery to see her niece and nephew.

“Are you going to stay?” asked Veronica, coming next to her friend.

Betty nodded. “Only for a few more hours. The nurses think Polly will be home in a few days, and I’ll want to get the house cleaned up and prepped for her and the babies.”

“Anything you need from us, just let us know,” added Archie, coming up beside Veronica. The two were close, but not touching. Betty wondered if the issue of whichever parent Lodge putting the hit on Fred had finally been laid to rest between the two, and whether or not they would begin dating again.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it. Maybe you’ll be able to come by on Friday and help set up the house for a welcome home party?” she asked, and both Veronica and Archie agreed. Kevin immediately jumped in to offer his decorating services. Betty turned her green eyes on her boyfriend, who gave a long-suffering sigh, but the gleam in his blue eyes told a different story.

And so, several days later, her friends kept true to their word – and had volunteered the services of a few others in preparation. Ethel and Cheryl were going through a music playlist; Reggie, of all people, along with Moose, was helping to carry in Polly’s entire baby shower items from the Lodges’ and what was saved from Thorn Hill, into Polly’s bedroom.

Archie and Veronica, with Kevin directing them, were on opposite ends of the living room, trying to level a banner that read _Welcome Jason & Eliza_ in alternating blue and pink letters.

Jughead and Betty were in the kitchen, where Betty was whipping up an entire dessert feast. Jughead, of course, was her official taste tester.

When Polly walked in, with little Jason in a carrier and Alice carrying Eliza, the entire group let out a cheer which woke the babies. Polly was deftly able to shush them, and Alice hovered protectively while Cheryl attempted to supplant herself as best Aunt.

Betty cleared her throat, bringing everyone’s attention to her where she stood in the archway between the living room and kitchen. “I know that Jason and Eliza were born a few days ago, but I wanted to do something special for them coming home today.”

She motioned behind her and Jughead came out, carefully carrying a two-tiered cake: one tier in blue, and the other in pink. There were two candles on it, also in blue and pink, and lit.

“This town has seen so much the past few months,” continued Betty, while Jughead carefully put the cake down on the coffee table in front of Polly, who was staring at her sister with very watery eyes. “We lost someone we all knew and cared about—” here, her eyes darted to her sister and Cheryl, as well as Moose and Reggie “—and we’ve had to grow from our experiences and encounters to become better people, become a better Riverdale.”

She took a deep breath. “I want Jason and Eliza to grow up without the same worries and issues we’re still dealing with. So, Poll – wish for a better future for them. One that we’re _all_ going to do our best to make sure comes true.”

With tears in her eyes, Polly leaned forward and blew at the candles on the cake, and everyone clapped. Her eyes met Betty’s over Hal leaning forward to cut carefully into the cake. She mouthed, _thank you_.

Betty preened. Yeah, she won the ‘best Aunt’ title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm saving the best for last... ;-)
> 
> Jughead tomorrow!


	8. Bonus: Jughead

*

[Bonus – Jughead]

“Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.” – Harriet Van Horne

 

Betty turned seventeen three months after Jughead, in January. At that time, she was very busy with not only school, but the River Vixens, and babysitting Jason Jr and Eliza when Polly needed her to – as well as her amateur sleuthing.

When a potential lead on Fred’s shooter came available (as well as further information that would exonerate FP), Betty and Kevin followed up on it only to end up in the hospital when they were attacked.

She spent her seventeenth in the ER, having her broken ankle placed in a boot, with a very pale and furious Jughead next to her (she was fine, honest; Kevin had more bruises covering his body compared to her broken ankle, being the one in the driver’s seat when they were run off the road. Besides, it was worth it, as they received new information towards the most recent Riverdale mystery). There had been no time to celebrate, and any other thoughts regarding celebrations was pushed off further when the information led to them uncovering who hired the man to kill Fred Andrews in the early Spring.

And so, the summer passed relatively quiet for Riverdale, forever changed by the events of the previous year.

FP was released from prison, but not without a hefty community service requirement and need to check in with the police every week for the next two years. Jughead moved back in with his father in the trailer; Gladys returned with Jellybean from Toledo, moving back in with her husband and son (it turned out FP sent his wife and daughter there for their safety, as she was passing information to the FBI on FP and several other Serpents’ request and Mustang had grown suspicious).

Archie and Veronica slowed their relationship down following his father’s shooting and recovery, but had begun to sneak off, attempting to rekindle their stalled relationship. Betty didn’t see much of them that summer.

Kevin ended up travelling down to San Junipero, to Joaquin, and they returned that September, together.

When the school year began, Jughead transferred back to Riverdale High for their senior year, but it took some time for him to be able to walk calmly down the halls without fear of an attack. The north side of Riverdale never treated the Joneses right, and that hurt lingered.

But with Jughead’s eighteenth drawing nearer, Betty realized she wanted to do something special her boyfriend. She wasn’t silly enough for a repeat of the previous year, planning a dinner that somehow ended up as a kegger, so she quietly visited FP and Gladys when Jughead was busy with Archie one afternoon to hash out her plans.

As October 14th drew nearer, Betty found that she had very little time to spend with her friends and Jughead, as her plans were requiring quite a bit of finagling. She could see the veiled hurt on Jughead’s face, but didn’t want to spoil the secret, either.

“You’re going to have to let him know soon,” said Veronica, eyes tracking the form of her boyfriend as he meandered through the early autumn rain. They were watching from the safety of a booth at Pop’s, looking out the window at where he and Archie had parked.

“I know,” said Betty, biting her lip. She twirled the straw in her vanilla milkshake.

Veronica eyed her over the decadent, extremely chocolate-y milkshake she ordered. “Do you? He’s been very carefully asking all of us if something’s come up with you.”

Betty cringed. “I’ll let him know, I promise.”

“Good.”

The bell above the door jingled, and Archie and Jughead entered, the varsity footballer shaking excess rain from his jacket, while Jughead wrung out his beanie, then placed it sloppily back on. It was slightly deformed from the damp.

Archie slid in next to Veronica, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek, resting his arm against the back of the booth.

Jughead tentatively did the same on the other side, next to Betty. His arm went around the back of the booth slowly, gingerly, as if Betty would bite at him, a wounded animal carefully easing forward to the bigger predator.

Betty, noticing this, as well as the distance he kept between them in the booth, smiled at him, and then slid so she was pressed firmly against his side.

He shakily exhaled.

For the rest of the evening, the four enjoyed their meals and talked about inconsequential things – how plans were coming along with the latest construction job Fred Andrews took on; Kevin and Joaquin’s relationship going strong; how Jellybean was settling in at Riverdale Middle School and prepping for attending Riverdale High next year. It was four friends sitting in a booth, laughing and joking, like everything was fine in the world.

Eventually, things tapered off.

“We’re going to head out,” said Archie eventually, eyeing his girlfriend.

She grinned back at him. “Right you are, Archiekins.”

Betty smiled at her friends while Jughead rolled his eyes. “Night, guys.”

“Call me later,” mouthed Veronica as Archie pulled her from the booth, and then they were gone.

She and Jughead sat in silence for a bit, him pushing the last of his cold, soggy fries through an excess of ketchup. Then, Betty turned to him.

“How about a walk?”

Jughead’s Adam’s apple bobbed a bit as he swallowed, but he shoved the near-empty plate away and stood, extending a hand out to Betty. She grasped it and together, they left the twenty-four hour diner for a chilly, aimless walk.

Eventually, they reached the site of the Twilight Drive-In, where Andrews Construction had long demolished the old structure and begun replacing it with the posts and beams and foundation to a new shopping complex that would eventually be owned and operated by Lodge Industries.

Jughead shoved his hands in his pockets, his mind supplying the image of the old drive in.

Betty stood in silence beside him, watching him carefully as he ignored her stare, looking out towards the tree line, far behind the metal spikes and posts.

“Is this where you break up with me?” he asked, his voice carrying a sarcastic tinge in order to hide the hurt he felt.

“What?” asked Betty, facing him fully. He continued to keep his head turned from her.

“You’re breaking up with me, right? That’s why you’ve been so busy recently,” he gave a tiny, morose chuckle. “And I get it – it’s me. It’s our last year, and after everything we’ve been through – well, there’s nothing really keeping us together now, is there? No more mystery to solve, no more high-stakes secrets to discover and help each other through.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open. “Is that what you think? That without those things, I couldn’t possibly be with you?”

He shrugged, hunching in on himself.

 _Oh, Juggie. I thought we were past this,_ she thought sadly, reaching forward and tugging at one of his hands in his denim jacket pocket. He resisted, but she keep tugging at it until she pulled the right hand out and laced her fingers in with his.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” she said firmly, stepping forward. Once she was close, in his personal space, she brought her other hand up and cupped the cheek he presented her. His eyes fluttered and closed, and his cheek surreptitiously pressed against her hand.

He inhaled and exhaled heavily a few times, and then opened his eyes, turned his head, and _looked_ at her. “What’s keeping you so busy?”

Betty bit her lip and looked down. “I’ve got a few things on my plate that’s... taking up a lot more time than I had expected. But I promise – Friday night. Everything will make sense then.”

His eyes searched hers. Then, he nodded very slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she asked back, confirming. “You’ll trust me?”

He rolled his eyes then and scoffed. “Yeah, of course I’ll trust you, Betts.”

She pouted and teased playfully, “Oh, I don’t know about that, Juggie. After all, you thought I was breaking up with you.”

“You were pulling away!” he protested, bringing his other hand out of the pocket to cup her chin and jaw, tilting her head up to face his.

“I’m _busy_ ,” she replied, widening her own eyes. “Senior year: Blue and Gold, River Vixens, university applications, SATs?”

“And Taste of Riverdale, and the student council position, and spending time with me,” added Jughead with a sigh. “Yeah, looking back, I should’ve realized.”

Betty hummed. “Yeah, you should’ve. Juggie, I _love_ you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He smiled down at his girlfriend, and lowered his mouth to hers, teasingly swiping his lips back and forth, sipping from her. She sighed into his mouth and felt his smile against her lips.

“I love you, too,” he breathed, and they were all right.

*

Friday afternoon, just after the final bell rang, Betty ran out of her class, leaving a confused Kevin staring after her; she dashed down the Riverdale High hallways, brushing past Veronica, Archie, and Jughead without anything more than a “Hi! Bye!” and calling, “Check your phone later, Juggie!” to her very confused boyfriend.

And then she was exactly where she needed to be, twenty minutes later: the Whole Foods grocer halfway between the North and South of Riverdale, filling her basket. Once done, she paid for her groceries and left, turning right and not left.

She passed the downtown core of Riverdale along the main drag, the old turn-of-the-century buildings and perfect All-American small-town design, until she reached the strip mall on the edge of the town and entered the trailer park.

Now recognized by many, especially after Jughead’s months-long stint as a Southside Serpent, Betty felt nothing but nervous anticipation building as she neared his home. Jellybean sat on the wooden steps, watching her father. He was half-buried under the hood of their red pickup, muttering under his breath. Something clanked against metal and he swore.

“Hi Jelly, FP!” greeted Betty as she approached.

Jellybean, all gangly arms and legs in skinny ripped jeans, Converse and oversized Hot Topic sweaters, grinned and waved. “Did you get everything, Betty?”

Betty hoisted the four plastic bags and nodded.

FP emerged from under the hood, reaching for a rag and wiping his hands with it. “I’d like to say I hope there are leftovers, but knowing Jug...”

Betty laughed. “I’ll put something aside for you as well. I’ll even label it and watch him like a hawk.”

“Good,” said FP, tilting his head towards the trailer. “Gladys is inside, and we’ll be here for another hour or so if you need anything from us, Betty.”

“Thanks again, FP,” said Betty emphatically. “I really appreciate it, and I know it puts you and Gladys out a bit to stay overnight in Greendale.”

Jughead’s father shook his head. “There’s a theme park Jellybean’s wanted to check out for awhile, and my probationary officer already cleared it all. So, we’re not backing out now. Besides, Jug put up a lot with me last year. It’s my turn to do right by my family now.”

Betty softened and nodded. Jellybean bounced down the wooden steps and grabbed two the plastic bags Betty was carrying, chatting all the way back inside the trailer. Gladys sat by the kitchen table, tucked off the kitchen and in the living room by the wooden closet. She was flipping through a magazine, but looked up when they walked in.

“Where should I put this, Gladys?” asked Betty politely, not wanting to intrude further on another woman’s kitchen.

“Anywhere you’d like, Betty,” she replied, a smile on her thin face. “We cleaned out one of the shelves in the fridge too, to give you more space.”

“Oh, Gladys, really, you didn’t have to!” protested Betty.

Gladys rolled her eyes, and Betty knew exactly where Jughead got his expressive eye rolling from. The woman had facial expressions down to an art to convey her thoughts without a verbal response. “You’ve taken care of my son when I couldn’t, Betty. Please – it’s the least I can do.”

Betty blushed, removing her coat. Jellybean helped her put away the ingredients she purchased, knowing the kitchen better than her, and then helped Betty begin her prep, watching with wide eyes as Betty’s bits and pieces began to take on recognizable shapes of food.

Eventually, as the shadows lengthened and Gladys began turning on lights in the trailer, FP entered from outside and announced the car was ready.

With a chorus of ‘good luck,’ ‘have fun,’ and ‘be safe’ (the last, which made Betty blush), the three Jones’ left and Betty was alone in their trailer. She took a deep breath, reached for her phone and sent Jughead a text.

_Do you have any plans tonight?_

As she waited for a response, Betty finished mixing her ground beef together, and then flattened them, making several beef patties. After finishing each one, she placed it on wax paper and then covered them with another layer, adding more patties under she had three stacks of four per layer; twelve burger patties in total.

She washed her hands, and checked her phone.

_Well, I was going to meet this gorgeous Hitchcock blonde. She's on the student council and a cheerleader. But I guess I could do something else. ;)_

_What do you have in mind?_

Betty grinned.

_Your place. Thirty minutes._

He responded with a smiley face, and Betty slipped her phone in her coat pocket, leaving the coat hanging over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. She turned back to the kitchen, tossing a salad, checking on the oven-baked potato chips, and prepped the grill she brought along specifically for this meal.

There was a lot going on at once: the burger patties to grill; the bacon to cook; the cheese to melt; the condiments to prep and the table to set. Betty wasn’t an overachiever for nothing though, and she had planned this evening for several weeks.

She had just finished plating five burgers – all with different cheese and condiments – on a long, rectangular presentation plate, when she heard Jughead on the wooden steps of the trailer and the jingle of his keys. He unlocked the door.

He was looking down when he stepped in, carefully toeing off his shoes. “Betts? Mom? ...Dad? Something smells good in –”

His head popped up and his eyes widened, taking in the scene.

Betty stood, nervously, at the entrance of the living room, wringing her hands and clenching and unclenching her fists. The lights were dim – one in the kitchen illuminating the entire front of the trailer – and behind her, she had dressed the small, round wooden kitchen table with a table runner. There were a few lit candles of varying size and shape clustered in the middle of the table and several plates of food on one side of the table.

There were two placemats next to each other, with a single large dinner plate, cutlery, and napkin. Two large milkshake glasses – one with vanilla and the other with strawberry – indicated where Jughead and Betty would sit. Along the table was the rectangular presentation plate of burgers Betty had made, a bowl of the oven-baked potato chips, and a bowl of garden salad.

“I – ah – where?” Jughead stuttered, looking around and then back at the table.

Betty grinned. “This was the surprise I was working on for the past little while. Happy birthday, Juggie.”

He started. _His birthday? That was today?_ “No one said anything.”

“After last year, we all decided to go at your pace,” confessed Betty, still shamed at her awful party attempt.

“Then what’s this?” he asked, stepping forward and gesturing at the table, his mouth already watering at the delicious scent of cooked burger, bacon, and cheese.

“Well, I still wanted to do something for your birthday,” explained Betty, drawing him closer and nudging him to sit at the table in his spot. “I know you didn’t want anything big – so I thought, why not just us? – and asked your parents for help.”

“Speaking of, where are they?” he asked, looking around, and then back at his girlfriend.

“Greendale,” she answered, sitting down in the vacant chair at his side. “They’re going to visit a theme park Jellybean wanted to see for some time and they’re staying overnight.”

Jughead’s eyes glittered in the darkness of the flickering candlelight. “Oh, are they?”

Betty flushed under his gaze. She had a plan she wanted to follow through with, though. “Later. Dinner first.”

Jughead gave her a long look and then turned back to the table, eyes wide at the burgers and sides she made.

“We could’ve gone to Pop’s for burgers,” he said slowly, eyes turning back to her.

She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and shifted nervously in her chair. “Yeah, we could have, but...” she rolled her lower lip into her mouth and watched as Jughead’s eyes darkened. “We go to Pop’s a _lot_. And... for your birthday, I thought – I could make you the burgers instead.

“After all,” she continued, “My grandmother said the most important ingredient is love.”

“Yeah?” asked Jughead, the corner of his mouth tilting up.

Betty nodded shyly. “Yeah.”

“Well then,” he said firmly, turning back to the table, rising to his feet to look at the burgers. “What do we have here?”

Betty pointed out that she made each burger slightly different – one was a plain bacon cheeseburger, another was with BBQ sauce and crispy onions; one had egg and tomato, and the fourth horseradish with bean sprout, spinach, and Gouda. The last had onion, peppers, Sriracha sauce, and Jack cheese.

Together, they cut the burgers in halves or quarters, and with their side of potato chips and salad, periodically sipping on their milkshakes, began to make their way through the meal Betty prepared for Jughead’s eighteenth birthday.

It was a significant improvement over the previous years’: they didn’t fight, nor was it crashed by Cheryl and Chuck, and secrets were not laid bare or feelings hurt.

Instead, Jughead finished the evening in rapture over the delicious meal his girlfriend cooked for him, sprawled half-on and half-off the couch in the living room, watching her with hooded eyes as she stacked the cleared plates they used for dinner to put in the sink.

“C’mere,” he said, once the table was cleared, holding out an arm and wriggling his fingers at her.

She smiled, complied, and sank onto the couch at his side, tucking her head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her. She drew her legs up, so that they were spooning.

She idly drew shapes on his chest, the heat of his body warming her.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. “This was... the _best_ birthday I could ever ask for.”

She tilted her head up and he drew his down slightly, so they kissed. The arm around her back slid up and his hand threaded through the hair at the nape of her neck, cupping her head and angling it just so.

Their kiss grew heated, and he groaned, swiping his tongue against her lips and begging for entrance, receiving it quickly.

It was wet and messy, her tongue sliding against his and their breathing heavy when they finally drew back.

“What if I said the evening isn’t over yet?” murmured Betty quietly, pupils blown wide in the dark of the trailer.

Jughead gave an answering grin, his own pupils nearly eclipsing the blue of his eyes. “Bedroom?” he asked.

She nodded. “Bedroom.”

Jughead manoeuvred her carefully, sitting up. When he stood, he held out his hand for her to take, which she did. He pulled her to her feet and slowly, led her to the back of the trailer where his bedroom was located.

Betty’s grandmother taught her how to bake and how to cook; she taught her the making something for someone was the ultimate act of caring, showing someone you thought of them and wanted to take care of them. She taught Betty that the final ingredient in any recipe was love.

But love was also a lot like cooking – you had to start small, figure out what was needed in the relationship, what bits and pieces, when added together, make a whole meal. Some things needed to simmer, or took their time to reach completion. A bit of spice changed the entire flavour of the relationship, and other things were trial and error to see what worked.

Jughead shut the door to his bedroom behind her, wrapping them both in the darkened room. She pressed against him, as he wrapped his arms around her, murmuring his affection and love for her in the quiet of the night.

He loved her food, but he also loved her.

She loved cooking for him, but she also loved him with everything she had. Seeing his eyes light up as he enjoyed something she made was affirmation, the same way her words affirmed her feelings for him.

The two were synonymous, a part of everything that Jughead loved, and she loved about it. And like everything else Betty did in life, she entered into cooking – and her love for Jughead – without regrets, without pausing, without a moment’s doubt.

*

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd happy birthday to meeeeee... celebrating by expressing my love for Bughead! I hope everyone enjoyed this wee series; I've only been posting in the Riverdale fandom less than a month and *everyone* has been wonderfully supportive and kind. If this is how my 31st is going to start, I know it'll be a fantastic year. <3


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